​Bruises of my Heart

I loved you with a hope that never learned to hide, While you fed me dreams you never planned to provide.

Why does karma cut me deepest for the kindness I’ve shown? Why do your sins walk free like they were never known? Why am I the one left hurting, paying debts I never made, while you walk untouched through the wreckage you laid?

You broke me with softness, not storms or fights, just slow-falling shadows that swallowed my light. You knew I’d believe you—every word, every sigh, and you watched that hope tremble but never asked why.

I gave you love whole; you gave me love broken, wrapped in excuses and half-hearted tokens. You mastered ‘almost,’ turned truth into art, and left your fingerprints on the bruises of my heart.

But now in the quiet, I’m learning what pain can reveal— that not every wound bleeds, and not every promise is real. And maybe the lesson was never about you being true… but about me learning to stop mistaking hurt for proof of love too.